


Property of Chloe Beale

by justtheonce



Series: Little Ugly Tree [2]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F, actually you may regret it more than i do, all fluff and games, i may regret inflicting this on the world, it happens after little ugly tree but it's not enough of a story to be a sequel, it's cute though so there's that, zero angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 18:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13980843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justtheonce/pseuds/justtheonce
Summary: Takes place after Little Ugly Tree. Do not read this if you think LUT ended at the right moment, there is nothing in this story worth ruining that.Chloe talks Beca into wearing her new 'Property of Chloe Beale' shirt to the Christmas party.





	Property of Chloe Beale

“Do we really have to go back to the party?” Beca asks.  
  
“Yes, silly. It’s early,” Chloe says. “We don’t have to stay late if you don’t want to. It’ll be fun.”  
  
“But kissing,” Beca whines, rather of the opinion that the best party in the history of forever would be less fun than kissing Chloe Beale, even if there was zero tongue involved, and now that she’s allowed to do it then there’s no good reason to ever do anything else. Chloe pecks her lips, and Beca asks, “Will you do that every time I complain?”  
  
“It’s possible,” Chloe says.  
  
Beca makes a note to herself to look into that thoroughly.  
  
“Come on, put your shirt back on and let’s go,” Chloe says, retrieving Beca’s purple plaid from the back of the couch and holding it out. Beca reaches for the hem on the new ‘Property of Chloe Beale’ T-shirt that she’s been coerced into trying on. She’ll tell anyone, if asked, that Chloe really had to work for it, but the truth is that a few soft kisses to Beca’s jaw and a few soft words in her ear were enough for her to slip out of her plaid and pull the T-shirt on over her tank top. “Noooo,” Chloe fusses. “Keep it on.”  
  
“I cannot wear this in front of anyone but you, Chlo,” Beca says. She’s stopped trying to lift the shirt because Chloe has grabbed one of her wrists, but she hasn’t let go of the green fabric.  
  
“But I wanna show you off.”  
  
“But,” Beca begins, only to stop when the reality of her new situation hits her. It’s always been hard to say no to Chloe, but she’s managed to do it because she’s inured herself to the puppy dog eyes and the wheedling voice -- at least enough that she only caves about half the time. Now, though, Chloe has new weapons. Now she has kisses and whispers and fingers gently stroking forearms, and all Beca can think to say is, “It’ll clash with my plaid.”  
  
“So get your green plaid,” Chloe suggests as she slips her free hand under Beca’s hair to rest on her neck.  
  
“How do you even know I have a green plaid? I never wear that thing.”  
  
“I know,” Chloe says. “Which is why you haven’t noticed that it’s actually in my room right now.”  
  
“You stole my shirt?”  
  
“I borrowed it,” Chloe corrects her. She starts scratching lightly against the base of Beca’s skull.  
  
“Why?” Beca asks. She’d like say more, maybe argue over semantics, but Chloe’s face is really close to her face and words are hard.  
  
“Because--”  
  
Chloe doesn’t get to finish that thought, because there’s a very loud, very shrill squeal. She and Beca turn to see Stacie by the door they’d failed to hear opening, wearing her very special, open mouthed, maniacal grin and pointing at them with a perfectly manicured finger.  
  
Then her face falls, morphing into a mask of fear and horror. “Oh my god, please tell me I just interrupted the post getting your shit together moment and not the pre getting your shit together moment, because if I have managed to derail the first ever Bechloe make-out the girls are going to kill me before I can kill myself.”  
  
Beca asks “Dude, what?”  
  
Chloe giggles and shoves at Beca a bit until she can stand behind her, rest her chin on one green clad shoulder, and tug the shirt straight for Stacie’s perusal.  
  
Stacie squeals again and asks, “Are you wearing that when you go back to the party? Please tell me you are.”  
  
“Not a chance,” Beca says, but she’s closed her eyes briefly due to Chloe nuzzling into her neck and Stacie is frighteningly quick to whip out her phone and snap a few pictures.  
  
“Oh, sweetie,” Chloe coos into Beca’s hair. “You might as well, she’s gonna tell everyone anyway.”  
  
Beca sighs and says, “Uh-uh.”  
  
“It’s cool, Beca, you can take it off,” Stacie says, waving her phone in the air. “I’ve got all I need.”  
  
“What, no,” Beca squeaks, lurching forward at the realization that she’d allowed Stacie to gather actual photographic evidence, but Chloe tightens her grip and Beca winds up just kind of leaning forward a bit with her arms outstretched as Stacie saunters out the goddamn door to go spread Beca’s humiliation throughout the Barden acapella community. “Shit,” she says. “Well, there goes my dignity. Might as well own it, then.” She waves an arm dramatically toward the stairs. “Bring me my green plaid.”  
  
Chloe squeals gleefully before taking the steps at a dead run, tripping on one halfway up and catching herself just before breaking her pretty face.  
Beca thinks it’s kind of unfair that Chloe can pull off being a full on dork without everyone thinking she’s the most awkward thing on two legs. Beca herself has not figured out how to do that.  
  
Agreeing to wear a shirt with ‘Property of Chloe Beale’ printed clearly across the front is, she figures, really not the way to come off as less of a dork. Honestly, though, there are probably twenty-odd people at the Trebles’ party alone who would give up a few fingers or a leg or even their chance at a bright future to be allowed to wear that stupid shirt, so Beca resolves to chalk up any shit talking to jealousy and respond to any such situations by touching or kissing Chloe as a subtle declaration of how she doesn’t have to give a single fuck about any teasing because she’s the one who is allowed to kiss Chloe Beale.  
  
Maybe that’s petty, but Chloe’s skipping down the stairs with a green plaid shirt clutched in her fist and a dazzling smile on her face, and Beca can’t possibly be bothered to care about anything else.  
  


* * *

  
  
“Stacie, you are a dirty bitch,” Beca mutters to herself as she Chloe tugs her by the hand through the bushes and into the Trebles’ yard.  
  
Chloe squeezes Beca’s hand in what is probably meant to be a signal that she heard that, but all Beca can think about is the fact that Chloe is holding her hand. In front of people. Like she’s not even a little bit ashamed of it.  
  
Another day, maybe, when she has time, Beca’s likely to sit very still for a few hours while she tries to figure out how such a thing is possible, but for now she’s going to settle for being rather giddy and a little mystified. And irritated, because Stacie’s gone ahead and gathered all the Bellas and they are waiting on the lawn in a semicircle.  
  
They start slow clapping, all at once and all together, as soon as Beca’s clear of the bushes. She wonders if they did a practice run beforehand, or if they’ve just been performing together long enough that such things are second nature to them. Either one is believable, Beca thinks.  
  
She’s glad she closed a few buttons on her plaid to hide the majority of the print on her new T-shirt, although there’s not a chance they haven’t seen the pictures on Stacie’s phone. Stacie looks like a proud parent, Jessica looks like she just found a basket of kittens on the doorstep, and Legacy looks like it’s only a matter of time before she bursts into tears.  
  
“This is not embarrassing at all,” Beca mutters. All she can think of to do is bow theatrically, tell them all the fuck off, and start walking toward the rest of the party with a middle finger in the air.  
  
Chloe holds her other hand the whole way, so it could be worse.  
  


* * *

  
  
Literally everyone at the party turns to look at them as they walk up, because you just can’t slip quietly into a party when there are ten of you. Beca watches as heads turn and eyes drop, nearly everyone clearly taking note of their joined hands, and she doesn’t even bother fighting the proud smirk that forms on her face. Beside her, Chloe is beaming and swinging their hands back and forth a bit. When she catches Beca looking, she brings their hands up to her face to kiss Beca’s knuckles.  
  
Beca considers drowning herself in the pool, because this is the high point of her life and probably it’s all downhill from here.Then Chloe winks at her, and that wink is full of promise, and Beca decides that possibly -- assuming she can manage to not fuck it up -- there are even better times to come. Pun unintended, but absolutely appropriate. Hopefully.  
  
Beca lets Chloe tug her in the general direction of the kegs, and of course one of the first people they walk by is Tom, who grins and raises an open hand in the air. Chloe high fives him as she passes. Beca considers stopping to apologize, but since he doesn’t know about the evil thoughts she’s had about him, it’d probably just be awkward. She gives him a nerdy little salute instead, mouths the word ‘thanks,’ and smiles when he salutes her right back.  
  
When they get to the kegs, a freshman Treble whose name Beca has forgotten or never knew fills two red solo cups and hands them over. Chloe says, “Thanks, Mike” as she takes a cup with her free hand, so Beca does, as well, and when Chloe meanders over toward the group of people dancing by the pool, Beca goes along. She’s considering just living this way from here on out: it might be worth it to give up one hand in return for being permanently attached to Chloe. She wonders how difficult it would be to learn to do things with only one hand, like mixing music or brushing her hair or changing her clothes.  
  
It’s really not practical, she decides wistfully, to live her entire life with one hand clutching Chloe’s. Still, Chloe’s not letting go and Beca only needs the one hand to hold her beer. She figures they can probably continue to hold hands until one of them needs to use the toilet.  
  
It’s pathetic, she knows, but after spending literally years resigned what she was sure was unrequited longing, she feels a little bit like she’s walking through the Twilight Zone. Like she might wake up in the morning to find that this was all just a pleasant but ultimately cruel dream, so she really ought to make the most of it while she can.  
  
Like, probably she should make the most of it for the thirty seconds it’s going to take them to complete the trek to the poolside dance floor, because that’s where Jesse is and he has clearly spotted them. He’s got this look on his face like his mouth is full of liquid and he’s trying to hold in a laugh, which might be what’s actually happening. He’s got his hands balled up into fists that he’s holding in front of his chest, and he’s got the too still posture of a guy who is using all of his will to stand in one place.  
  
There’s a part of Beca that is grateful he’s making an effort to play it cool, but she knows it’s a lost cause so there’s a bigger part of her experiencing an awful lot of dread about the well-meaning mockery she’ll probably have to endure when they get there.  
  
Chloe squeezes Beca’s hand and turns her head to offer a small, reassuring smile, and Beca just about forgets where they are and what’s going on and how to put one foot in front of the other. She certainly forgets to feel anxious, and it’s far too late to change course when she realizes Chloe is deliberately leading her toward Jesse as if she actually wants to talk to him.  
  
Leave it to Chloe to be completely unconcerned about strutting right up to Beca’s ex-boyfriend as if it has not occurred to her that this might be at all awkward, because it has not, in fact, occurred to her. She’s Chloe fucking Beale, and she could probably have stolen Beca directly away from him and still managed to keep his friendship.  
  
As it is, Beca and Jesse have been over long enough to become friends again, so when they’re all within arms’ reach of each other, Jesse holds his open hand out to Beca much as Tom had Chloe. She’s not letting go of Chloe’s hand, though, and she’s also not setting down her beer, so she just stares at him until he curls his fingers around an invisible cup and taps them against hers.  
  
He’s wearing the wide smile Beca still loves, and she manages to keep her lips closed but she can’t stop the corners of her mouth from turning up.  
  
“Well, well, well,” Jesse says, using boths hands so he can point a finger at each of them. “This is a sur-- actually, this is not surprising at all, now that I think about it.” He laughs. “Makes me feel a lot better about getting dumped.”  
  
Beca knows that if she were in Chloe’s place there would be some kind of stuttering mess of a ramble about how she totally didn’t make a move until long after the break-up, but Chloe just laughs and nudges him playfully with her elbow.  
  
Chloe dutifully makes an effort to look serious when he says, “If you hurt her, though, I’ll -- well, let’s be honest, I’m not gonna kick your ass. But I’ll want to. I will want to, and I will fantasize about it.” He points at her face as he speaks, his finger dangerously close to booping her nose.  
  
“You are drunk,” Beca observes as Chloe nods solemnly beside her. “And this got weird, so.” She pulls Chloe away while she scans the crowd to find where the Bellas are gathered in a knot of dancing, singing, and hugging.  
  
“Bye, Jesse!” Chloe calls cheerfully over her shoulder.  
  
“Later, ladies!” He calls back. Beca doesn’t have to look to know he’s waving like a complete dork.  
  


* * *

  
  
True to her word, Chloe doesn’t force Beca to stay at the party all night. They spend some time dancing and letting the Bellas fawn over them. They say ‘Merry Christmas’ to like a zillion people and accept congratulations from just as many, and it seems bizarre to Beca that anyone would congratulate Chloe when it’s clear that Beca’s the one punching above her weight, but whatever.  
  
She’s walking back across the lawn hand in hand with the kindest, smartest, prettiest, funnest girl in the history of the planet Earth and she’s totally got a buzz and she can’t stop grinning.  
  
It takes Chloe a few tries to get the key in the lock, so she’s clearly got a nice buzz on, as well. She keeps giggling and shushing Beca when she laughs out loud. It’s just like every other night they’ve walked home from a party, really, only this time Chloe waits until Beca closes the door behind her and then presses her against it while she kisses her soundly. It’s a marked improvement over every single previous drunken walk home, in Beca’s estimation.  
  
“So, I really don’t wanna rush things, but,” Chloe says directly into Beca’s ear. Her voice is soft and overly careful, the way it always is when she’s trying not to slur. “I’d really like you to stay in my room tonight.”  
  
“Like, on the floor?” Beca asks, unsure whether or not it’s a joke.  
  
“No,” Choe says with a chuckle. “I want to hold you and wake up with you tomorrow.  No funny business. Is that OK?”  
  
“That is not OK, that is awesome,” Beca says. She accepts another kiss before adding, “How is this my life?”  
  
“It’s funny how you think you’re the lucky one,” Choe says. She kisses Beca again, like she’s not even getting sick of it at all, and she’s beaming when she turns toward the stairs.  
  
Beca watches her go. At the landing, Chloe turns and looks down.  
  
“Don’t dawdle,” she says, wagging a finger.  
  
“I’ll be up in a minute,” Beca tells her, and when Chloe’s out of sight she pushes off the door and heads for the little ugly tree.  
  
She briefly considers apologizing to it for the things she said earlier, but since it’s not even alive much less sentient she decides that’d be incredibly weird. Instead, she reaches out to brush one of its branches with the back of her hand. She thinks about how Chloe wanted this one, in all its stunted glory, instead of one of the many bigger, better looking trees, and how it actually looks pretty nice now that it’s been showered with love and decorations.  
  
She thinks maybe Amy wasn’t too far off when she suggested the tree was a lot like Beca. She chuckles at herself as she starts up the stairs where she will, against all her previous notions about the workings of the universe, sleep in the arms of Chloe goddamn Beale.  
  
“Must be a Christmas fucking miracle,” she mutters. Then she picks up the pace, grinning the whole way up.


End file.
